As you did love, but as you fear’d him.
Cle.O!
Thy. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserved.
Cle.He is a god, and knows
What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer’d merely.
(iII. xiii. 56.)
But this was before the supreme sorrow had come to quicken in her, her nobler instincts. Now she has no thought of incriminating Antony and exculpating herself. She says with quiet dignity: